


Downs

by yeaka



Category: Travelers (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Established Relationship, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-25 01:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22327552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Philip’s heats are confusing and awful.
Relationships: Ray Green/Philip Pearson | Traveler 3326
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	Downs

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Travelers or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

In some ways, heats were easier in the future, even with the recycled air and cramped quarters, the complete lack of privacy and the bitter food, and not anyone that _loved him_. At least he’d never been _high_. There were no withdrawals fogging up his system, complicating an already trying time. It isn’t even the withdrawals anymore. Philip’s been clean long enough. But the pills bring on new symptoms. Going off them brings on even more. It’s all Director-sanctioned. The Director thinks he can live through a multitude of timelines. Philip reminds himself of that all the time. It still feels like he’s dying. 

He pukes in the washroom of the warehouse and rinses his mouth out until his tongue’s scrubbed raw. He scrubs his hair out of his eyes and it just mats at the back of his head, tangled with sweat—his whole body’s slick, chest heaving—he can’t stop _panting_. It’s so hard to breathe. His skin feels like it’s on fire, and he finds himself pawing at it, wandering out of the washroom with bloodshot eyes. 

The couch is right there. The nest he made last night is still there—or maybe he made it in the morning—he can’t remember anymore. It’s _empty_. Completely empty. He can see Trevor’s hoodie tucked into the corner and one of Mac’s ties sticking out the side, but those are just _things_. It gives Philip pause, because he could’ve sworn he _had someone_. He can still feel the lingering effects of an alpha’s touch. He looks down at his naked stomach and sees the pink scrapes of finger marks where someone held on. He thought he could still smell Ray’s cologne. 

His brows knit, knees shaking. His sweatpants are hanging low down his hips, tented, but there’s no one there to relieve him. _He thought he had Ray._ When he closes his eyes, he can see Ray’s wide smile, feel Ray’s stubble against his chin, hear Ray’s voice in his ear, telling him what a good omega he is. He thought Ray _loved him._

But maybe that was just another timeline—a fleeting trick of his imagination. At least Poppy’s still there, resting on her log. So he still lives in a world where Ray exists. Ray still cares enough to give him that. He didn’t imagine everything—just the most important thing. 

He can’t stand to look at the nest anymore. It has things from other alphas, ones who care about him—even one of Carly’s jackets draped over the back. It’s not enough. He knows they all love him in a way, but not enough to be there when he needs them. They all have other places to be, protocol fives. _Homes_. Even Trevor’s visiting his parents. Philip doesn’t have anyone. 

Philip tells himself to get over it, because he’s there for a mission, and it doesn’t matter if he’ll die alone. He just has to help the team and save the world. That’s all. But he’s painfully hard and wants someone to touch him so badly. He wants _Ray_.

He stumbles back to his bedroom and wrenches open the door. A second nest is there—a smaller one, a sloppier one, done a few hour ago in the throes of things, without anything from any alphas other than _his alpha_.

Ray’s sitting at the head of his bed, leaning against the wall, buried in a cell phone. But then Ray looks up at him and frowns. Ray clicks his tongue and grunts, “Damn, you look sick.” His arm tosses open, the cell phone tossed aside. He hums a sympathetic note and calls, “C’mere, babe.”

Philip closes his eyes, but when he opens them again, Ray’s still sitting there. Ray’s arms are still open. Philip instantly marches over to them. He climbs up into Ray’s lap and flattens his entire body into Ray’s, grinds their chests together, bends down and presses a bruising kiss against Ray’s lips. Ray makes a muffled noise of surprise but fists one hand in his hair and kisses him back, even nipping at his bottom lip. Philip wants him to break the skin. Philip needs to taste Ray, needs to _feel it_ , just so he knows it’s real. 

It is. Everything’s there. The smell of Ray’s cheap cologne, the brush of Ray’s fingers along his neck, Ray’s ash in his mouth and Ray’s warm chuckle in his ear. Ray smiles beautifully at him, as if to say everything will be alright. 

Philip clings to Ray for dear life. He wraps Ray in a fierce hug and won’t let go. Ray pets him soothingly and promises, “Shh, it’s gonna be okay.”


End file.
